


Assumptions

by Wrespawn



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Finger Sucking, Nonbinary Rimmy Tim, Other, Reader-Insert, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28485933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrespawn/pseuds/Wrespawn
Summary: Rimmy Tim is so smooth, he can even get it when he’s in a jail cell.  But he’s polite about it.Warnings: Police/prison adjacent, public-ish sex (without an audience), character demonstrating an ability to be manipulative although not using that for anything harmful, complicated power dynamics in both directions (but an overall consensual sexual dynamic), accidental misgendering, mouth fingering, references to choking (although no choking happens).Big thanks to Threatie for helping with this!The reader in this story is gender-ambiguous, has a vagina, and is a sub.
Relationships: Jeremy Dooley/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Assumptions

People aren’t usually interested in your job. You’re a janitor. However, you can grab someone’s attention real quick when you mention where you sweep the floors. You’re a janitor at the local police station, including the jail cells. Sometimes, when you clock in, those cells are occupied.

It’s a pretty typical night as you step into the room with the holding cells, broom in hand. The handful of concrete-walled cells are quiet and dusty. You settle into your work with the mindless zen of routine. It’s a job that can bring you unnervingly close to violent criminals, but you’ve never been afraid. They’re behind steel bars. A painted line on the floor warns you how close you can get. And usually, given the hours you work, those dangerous criminals and shoplifters alike are snoring on their rickety bunks while you sweep the floors.

The cells are almost empty tonight. One flat mattress houses an oddly-dressed man, the only point of color in the grey room. You glance at him as you start sweeping, then do a double-take. His crossed legs are dressed in sunny yellow, and a purple dress jacket is crumpled where his arms are crossed behind his head. A white cowboy hat is tipped over his face, covering his expression.

For a moment, all you can do is stare. That looks alarmingly like the notorious criminal Rimmy Tim. What the hell is he doing in some low-security temporary jail cell?

“Late shift?” the criminal asks casually.

You almost jump out of your shoes. You thought he was asleep. You couldn’t see his face under that damn cowboy hat.

“Me too,” he continues, somehow smoothing over your social horror. “Wish I’d brought coffee.”

“Are you… ” You stop, try to find a tone that isn’t awestruck, and start again. “Are you Rimmy Tim?”

The criminal doesn’t move. “Mm. You tell me.”

You frown. Nothing strips the luster off a star quite like an ego. You start sweeping again. “Well, you’re in a jail cell, so… either Rimmy Tim isn’t as good as they say he is, or some cosplaying fanboy got nailed for public indecency.”

“Pick your favorite." The criminal doesn’t tilt up his hat, but you can see him smile under the rim. "The real Rimmy Tim loves being mistaken for someone else.”

“You’re a bit of a smarmy ass.”

“So is the real Rimmy Tim. I’m just staying in character.”

With a sigh, you turn your attention back to the dusty floor. The broom makes soft scratchy noises on the rough concrete. It’s late, and weird company is better than no company. ”So what are you in for, fanboy?“

He chuckles. ”You wouldn’t believe me.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’d lie, and I think you know better than to trust me.”

“Well, now I wanna hear your lie.”

He uncrosses his legs, then crosses them in the other direction. “Tax arson.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you.”

“Good call.”

You can’t resist dramatically wiggling your fingers, even though he’s not looking. “Is this where you tell me about how the real Rimmy Tim is a master of deception?”

“Oh, he is.”

“And what else can the real Rimmy Tim do?”

Finally, the criminal tips up his hat. His eyes are dark and soft and bright all at once. “I can get you off without leaving this cell.”

You almost drop your broom. You expect him to laugh, or to leer, but there’s no joking in his expression. There’s nothing predatory either. His eyes are on your face, alert and expectant, waiting for a response.

“C-come again?” you wheeze.

This time, he smiles. “Nah, just once. I don’t know if we have time for two. But hey, maybe you’ll surprise me!”

“I-I don’t have a key ring on my belt or anything,” you grunt. “You’re not getting out of that cell by tricking me into coming closer.”

“I’m not trying to use you.” Leisurely, the man in purple sits up. “Just trying to thank you for brightening my day with some conversation. Believe me, I don’t need your help to get out of here.”

It’s been a while since you got off, and your body is choosing this moment to remind you of that. Not that this criminal in a cell is an option. If he really is who he says, then he’s dangerous. You could walk up to those bars and he could grab you by the neck, and—

Fuck. You’re wet. Why are you considering this?

“There’s cameras in this room,” you lie. Maybe if you spook him, he’ll stop making this offer that you shouldn’t accept.

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. You can go turn them off if you like. I’ll wait.”

Fuck. Fuck. What would he do to you? Just feel you up? Slot his dick through the bars? Choke you unconscious before you can scream? No one else is around, no one would know about it if you let this dangerous man get his hands on you, satisfy himself in whatever way he could manage. That’s what makes this so risky, and so tempting.

“Or don’t. I’m just as happy to keep talking.” He’s still smiling, and it shouldn’t be so friendly when he’s offering to fuck you through the bars of a cell. “Late shifts, right? They get lonely.” 

Lonely. You really are alone with him, just the two of you, late at night.

The broom clatters as you drop it. You’re striding towards his cell before you can change your mind, past the painted line on the floor warning you about the reach of a human arm, right up to the steel bars. The criminal hasn’t stood up from the bed, but you feel like you’re in the cell with him. His smile is growing, changing.

“Risk-taker. Mmm.”

“Sometimes risks pay off.” Your voice comes out different than you’d intended. Breathier. Fuck, you were trying to play it cool. Your heart is pounding so loud you can hear it in your ears.

Slowly, like an uncoiling snake, he stands. “You’re not wrong about that.”

He doesn’t rush to the bars. You have plenty of time to retreat as he moves towards you, time to slip back behind that painted line of safety, outside his most desperate reach. You stay where you are. By the time you’re face to face with the man who might be Rimmy Tim, your breath has quickened.

“So tell me…” Instead of touching your body, he hooks his fingers on your shirt collar and gives it a light tug. “Are you more of a take-charge type in the bedroom, or do you want me in control?”

The teasing pressure on the back of your neck is making your heart pound. “Wh-what, you mean you can’t tell just by looking into my eyes? That’s not another one of your party tricks?”

“You want me playing on hard mode, or do you want to feel good sooner?”

“You tell me,” you shoot back.

He smirks. “Ah. Sub.”

Shit, looks like that is one of his party tricks. He’s right, and you have a feeling your flushed cheeks are giving you away. “I-is that what you were hoping for?”

“Mm, nah. I can work with either.”

You swallow. You can’t imagine how you would’ve taken control of this situation, if you’d wanted to. "Would it matter?”

“I’m trying to get you off. Of course your preferences matter.”

“N-no, I mean—” 

HIs fingers slip from your shirt collar to your neck, lightly brushing up the side. Your words trail off in a haze. His fingers trace up to your jaw, curling tenderly under it. He’s gentle. It’s the one thing you weren’t expecting from him, and nothing else could have made your legs this weak.

“I-I mean…” You struggle to find your words, and when you do, they’re soft and wobbly. “What would you have done if I… if I wanted to be in control?”

Gripping your chin, he gently guides your face closer so he can whisper against your lips. "You’ve really gotta stop making assumptions about who and what I am.”

“Then show me,” you beg softly.

He smiles. “Pull your pants down, and I will.” 

You fumble with your waistband, your breath quick. There’s no one around at this time of night, no one will be in this room until the guard comes by later, but it still feels dirty. By the time your pants slip down over your ass, you’re wetter than you can remember being in a long time.

The criminal’s gaze flicks to your bare hips, your shaking thighs, but his primary attention is focused on your face. “Guess you don’t mind the cameras,” he murmurs.

You freeze, pants caught around your thighs. Your lie breaks under the pressure of his gaze. “I… I-I lied about the cameras.”

For a moment, he looks almost embarrassed. “I knew. Sorry.”

There shouldn’t be room on your face for even more blush. “Then– why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wanted to let you enjoy it.”

“Enjoy what?”

His fingers touch your bare thigh. “Lying.” 

“Nnnh—“ Your thighs shake as his touch moves closer and closer, in no rush to reach its destination. If he gets any higher, he’s going to feel how slick your thighs are. The hand on your chin has become firm, holding you in place. “O-oh fuck…”

“Did it feel good?” He’s whispering almost reverently. “When you thought I believed it?”

His first touch on your clit is so light that he may as well have breathed on it. Your knees almost buckle. 

“Because it felt good for me,” he confesses. 

The desire on his breath, the way his fingers move against you as he says it, makes you believe him. It’s not long before you’re gripping the steel bars just to stay on your feet. You didn’t know a person could be this into verbal sparring. 

His fingers dip lower, but don’t quite slide inside. “Now, are you gonna make me guess whether or not you like penetration, or are you gonna tell me?”

Your hips wiggle feebly, trying to push down onto his hand. “Y-yes, please!”

He obliges, slowly. Your face is hot and your knees are shaking. Either you’re letting some smooth-talking fanboy get a free grope, or… or the fingers sliding inside you right now would be more at home on a gun. 

“Mmmh…” The criminal lets out a pleased breath, as though he’s the one getting pleasure from the act. “Now there’s something I wasn’t expecting to get in jail.” 

It’s hard to speak with his fingers moving into you so slowly. “D-don’t get pussy in jail often?”

“Nah, this is definitely a treat.” 

“Ah—” Your breath hitches as his fingers press deep, buried to the knuckle, his palm flush against your clit. It’s like he’s greedy to feel as much of you as possible. “O-oh fuck—”

He may as well have grabbed you by the neck. His fingers are hooked into you, keeping your body close to the bars of the cell, not that you have any interest in pulling away. You’re melting where you stand as his fingers ripple and press, his palm shifting against your clit with each motion.

“There’s not a lot in here that’s soft.” His fingers curl, slow and gentle, just the right place. “But you’re nice and soft.”

His hand remains on your chin, but one finger trails over your lips. Your mouth falls open, tongue curling against his finger, inviting it inside.

“Oh,” he breathes, “you really are a sub.” 

Your eyes flutter as he presses two fingers into your waiting mouth. You don’t know how he’s even doing this. His fingers are barely moving, just whispers over your clit, but it’s making your legs melt. His grip on your jaw is the only thing holding you up. He’s fingering you from both ends, two between your lips and two buried between your legs. 

“Aaah—” A cry slips out around his probing fingers, sharpening as he holds your jaw. “Aaah-hhhah—”

“Good thing there’s no cameras.” His fingers slide over your tongue. “You’re putting on a real show.”

Drawn by instinct, you fumble at the bars of the cell, reaching between them, pressing your hand between his legs. There’s a hard bulge in his pants, a big one. As your hand moves against it, he groans softly, pushing into the touch.

If he asked you to turn around and press your ass against the bars of the cell, you’d do it.

A groan drags at his breath. “Looks like you want something.”

“Hh–” Your toes curl as his hand shifts, thumb moving over your clit. It’s hard to talk around his fingers, both sets of them. You can feel his dick twitch through his pants. “Y-you– you can–”

“I can do what?”

Your back arches as his fingers move faster. “A-anything!” 

“I know.” His voice is whisper soft, the words sending an unexpected jolt of pleasure through you. His next words almost take you off your feet. “And I think you know too.”

You have to grip the bars as the first wave of pleasure hits you. Your other hand presses harder against his zipper, grinding against rigidness. You can feel his approval, both through the bright fabric and in the movement of those fingers, where– fuck– he can feel each pulsing squeeze. 

He slides his fingers out of your shaking body just as slowly as he slid them in, as though careful not to bump your throbbing clit. You can’t help the shiver that runs through you as they slide free. You feel as though those fingers inside you had been the only thing holding you up. 

The criminal lifts his slick fingers and sucks them clean. His smile seems genuinely appreciative. “Mmm. That’s also something I wasn’t expecting to get in here.”

“I-I want…” Your hand is still on his dick. “I wanna get you off too.”

If you could get your brain to work, you’d be undoing his zipper right now. Guiding his hard cock through the bars of the cell. Doing anything he asked to it.

His hand finds your wrist, pressing your palm against his cock for just a moment. Then, gently, he lifts your hand away from his groin and brings it to his lips instead. He gives your knuckles a respectful kiss. “I’m flattered, but I’m afraid our time is up. The guard comes by in five minutes.”

Oh shit, he’s right. You fumble with your pants, yanking them back up, and retreat back behind the painted line on the floor. Being caught behind that line would be just as damning as being caught with your literal pants down.

“I can come back later,” you offer, picking up your broom. You’re already coming up with the logistics, the excuses. “To return the favor.” 

His sunny smile vanishes. "For your sake, don’t.”

His tone is just as easygoing as ever, but you grip your broom a little tighter. Something tells you you’re not supposed to ask why.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the offer,” he adds. “Really. It’s tempting.”

“Why shouldn’t I come back?” He’s right, you’re a risk-taker.

“There’s a reason I knew there weren’t cameras in the room. Knew when the guard would come by.“ The criminal’s expression has changed. For the first time, you understand why people are afraid of Rimmy Tim. “You asked what I was in for. Here’s a hint: I wanted to be here.”

Late shift, he said. Shit. You’re not the only one on the job right now.

“Don’t worry, you’re not putting anyone in danger by keeping quiet.” He pulls the anxiety out of your mind before you know it’s there. “No one’s going to get hurt tonight. Not unless I have no choice, anyway.” He steps back from the bars, walking to his cot. “And I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.” 

Awe has crept back into your voice, but it’s different than it was before. “I think I know what you are now.”

With a sigh, he flops down on the bed, same position as when you first saw him. “So, am I a fanboy?”

“No. You’re a good man.”

He tilts down his hat, obscuring everything but his smile. “Assumptions again.”

“You’re not good?”

“Not a man.”

Before you can process what he means, you hear the distant creak of a door. The guard is here, and you’re out of time. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, already fearful that the guard will hear. With that, you take your broom and leave the quiet cells behind. 

You were wrong about Rimmy Tim. He’s not like the news reports say he is. He’s a lot more interesting than that.


End file.
